Christmas candy

I took a little day trip to London with a friend as a pre-Christmas treat. I had never set foot in the famous shopping arcades or other places of similar fancifulness which are packed with tourists all year round and little suited for cost and other reasons to my shopping habits. However this year I decided to embarque on a decadent window shopping experience - after all, I am a tourist in this country - and have to say, London is certainly the place for stimulating the want. 

In true touristy fashion, I preferred Harrods to Fortnum & Mason's, although the latter wowed me with their marzipan and glace fruit confectionery - so beautiful you would never want to eat it. But the former's architectural and interior design features score pretty high in the way of glamour. I  had to take an extra ride in the amazing Otis elevators which were my favourite feature. No pics other than the one outside their winter wonderland window, the kind of shop display that is very much up my street. 

Sadly the Christmas decorations section in either store didn't quite match my expectations, yet I stumbled upon some wonderful things such as a Deco patterned tie, along with beautiful chevron knitted Missoni ones, amazing Islamic woven silk rugs that added another dimension to the touch, and last but not least a perfume that emptied my brain and filled my senses, so by the time we ended the day with cocktails in the perfect Deco surroundings of the American Bar at Brasserie Zedel, I had been drunk already for some time. 

I need to get out of the house a bit more, I think... Right now, to do some actual Christmas shopping.

Never again?

There is seaside, and there is...seaside. Or, you get there and the sea is nowhere to be seen. For sea-sightseeing, a mile walk in the mud sorts you out. When you finally reach it, you'll waltz in it like my baby did. Or perhaps not.

What is certain is that there can't be many worse ways of spending a wedding anniversary than driving for 3 hours to do this. And whilst doing so, do what married couple do best: bicker for the best part of it. 

Leave too late because you're simply too tired to do otherwise, take the wrong exit on motorways, have horses and an impressive variety of agricultural vehicles interpose themselves between you and this Arcadia of your desire, have your sat-nav lead you to the restaurant with the best reviews only to get lost in the middle of nowhere, and finally arrive at destination hungry and angry and having to face very soon the trip back ('cause there's work tomorrow), while you cannot help but wonder why everything always has to go wrong for you...

Still, not everything has gone wrong. 7 years down the road (excuse the pun) you're here, together, and you take with you the memory of the presents you found for each other on the beach: a little green plastic heart, a black chestnut...That, is good. And that keeps you going. There are paradises that we imagine, we dream of, we work for, we artificially invent, we fight for, we spend our life in the vain attempt to reach...when Arcadia is perhaps up for grabs in the mud.